Unbidden
by Anyia
Summary: The leaders of the Antivan Crows are called upon to undertake a rather risky operation at sea - one that involves the assassination of a certain Tevinter magister and the rescue of a certain slave.
1. Prologue: A Reunion of Sorts

_Author's Note:_

_This _Dragon Age/Dragon Age II _fanfic has been festering in my hard drive for a few months now, and I've only just convinced myself to publish it. This is my first ever multi-chapter fanfic, so while comments are welcome, please do be gentle with me._

**Prologue: A Reunion of Sorts**

When Zevran and his companion entered the tavern, he immediately knew where to look to find their client. Looking over at the bar, he spotted a lone woman with black curls and a bountiful bosom signaling the barkeep for another pint.

"Ah, Isabela," he said as they approached her. "Still drinking enough liquor to knock a hardened sailor unconscious, I see."

Isabela looked over her shoulder and beamed. "Zevran! I was starting to think you wouldn't show up."

The elven woman at his side snorted, glancing around at a few tavern patrons who were now staring at the assassin with suspicion. "We hoped for a _quiet_ meeting, Isabela."

"Ah, I'm sorry," Isabela said, lowering her voice in a mock whisper. "I keep forgetting how important you are now, Zev. Or is it… say, what _do _you call the leader of the Crows?"

Zevran smiled, causing the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, ironically called "Crow's Feet", to show. "No real title in particular. You may still continue to call me Zevran, or Zev, or any other naughty nickname you can think of."

Zevran's companion coughed, placing a hand on his arm. "Might we consider continuing this conversation somewhere less public? We're going to have to deal with eavesdroppers now, since Isabela has so kindly announced your presence."

"Ah, _mi amor_," Zevran said. "You know no one dares meddle in our affairs anymore. They could be dead within minutes if they attempt anything foolish." He made sure to speak the last line a bit louder than the first, causing the curious tavern folk to suddenly become more intimate with their tankards.

Isabela smirked and sauntered over to Zevran, pausing to pat his companion on the shoulder. "I see _you_ still haven't gotten that stick out of your ass after all these years. What was that name you said you went by now? Flora? Rosita?"

"_Rosa_," she hissed, shrugging Isabela's hand off. "Let's head over to that room you said you had so we can start our… negotiations."

"Ooooh," Isabela cooed. "I _like _the way you say that."

* * *

><p>Once they were in the privacy of Isabela's room, Rosa pulled down her hood and shook out the red hair that lay beneath it. It was pulled back in a loose bun, and Zevran always thought the stray locks framed her face and neck quite prettily. Judging by the look on Isabela's face as she watched the redhead told him she agreed.<p>

"So," Rosa said, ignoring Isabela's approving stare and throwing her cloak over an empty chair. "What's this 'urgent matter' you mentioned in your letter?"

Isabela threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Oh, come _on_! Here I thought you'd be friendlier once we were out of the public eye!"

Rosa snorted and raised her eyebrows. "Were you expecting me to kiss your cheeks and beg you to tell me all about your adventures?"

Isabela turned her attention to Zevran, who was watching them with a twinkle in his eye. "How do you live with this dried up excuse of an elf, Zev?"

The assassin threw an arm around Rosa and grinned. "Ah, my saucy little minx finds ways to keep me content." He winked at Rosa, making her to smile in spite of herself. "But she is right, Isabela. I believe you do need to fill us in on this 'urgent matter' you spoke of in your letter. Business is still business, you know."

"Fine," Isabela said, gesturing for the two elves to follow her further into the room, where she proceeded to sit down on a chair huffily. "There's this man that needs to be dealt with."

"Yes, yes," Rosa said, waving her hand impatiently. "You addressed the letter to the Antivan Crows. We already know this is an assassination job. Just tell us who he is and he'll be dead."

"Well, it's more complicated than that," Isabela said, leaning back in her chair and running her hands through her black curls. "For one thing, the man is a Tevinter magister. A senator."

Zevran shrugged. "We get requests for political assassinations every day, my dear. His rank and position do not matter."

"Indeed," Rosa said, her brow creasing into a frown. "But Tevinter senators aren't our typical politicians. The fact that this man has made it all the way to the Senate means he's an incredibly powerful and influential blood mage. That might prove to be a challenge, even for the Crows."

"Oh, but previous generations of Crows have dealt with Tevinter magisters before," Zevran grinned. "And besides… I _like_ challenges. Continue, Isabela."

"So the second thing…" Isabela took in a deep breath before continuing. "We also need to rescue someone. A slave."

Zevran and Rosa eyed each other with raised eyebrows. The combination of Isabela wanting to rescue a lone slave and how she said _"we"_ instead of _"you"_ led them to question Isabela's sobriety. And sanity.

Isabela caught the exchanged glances, and slammed her fist against the table. "Damn it, you two, I'm being serious here! If you can't bring yourselves to believe I want to ask for your help in rescuing _one slave_, then-"

"Alright," Zevran interrupted, gently. "Calm down, Isabela. Tell us what this is about."


	2. Act 1: Bait

"Do you even have a plan, Isabela?"

"Why are you looking at _me_? You and Zev here are in charge of the bloody Antivan Crows. If you ask _me _for a plan, the best I'll be able to come up with is 'Stick a dagger into the magister's eye and steal the slave while he's trying to pry it out.'"

Rosa rubbed her temples, irritated by Isabela's lack of input regardless of her willingness to help with the job directly. They had been trying to come up with a plan for nearly an entire day now, with Isabela growing more and more impatient with each passing hour.

"Let's go over the facts one more time," Zevran said, trying to ease the tension. "The magister is on his way to Antiva, and by your sources, Isabela, their ship was last spotted at Llomerynn a week ago-"

"Which is why we're on my ship to meet them halfway through the Rialto-"

"Without the slightest idea what to do once we _do _run into them," Rosa finished for them. "Might I remind you, _again_, that we're facing a Tevinter magister and his private army here? That means we'll be up against seasoned Tevinter soldiers and other blood mages, not to mention demons and possibly abominations. This is _not_ your ordinary boarding, Isabela. If we do this wrong, we could all die. We need a solid plan."

Isabela placed one hand on her hip and cocked her head. "You sound like you have one, clever girl. Let's hear it."

Rosa's lips tightened as she looked away from Isabela. The plan she had in mind was difficult to pull off, and would put her personally at risk. She glanced at Zevran, who was eyeing her with a frown.

"Isabela," she said after a long pause. "If we're going to do this my way, do everything _exactly as I tell you to. _When that magister's ship is in sight, I need you to order your men to put up a flag of truce. And pull the ship up next to theirs."

Isabela stared at her, dumbfounded. "A flag of t_ruce_? Are you mad? I mean…I don't even know if we even _have_ a flag of truce on this ship-"

Rosa scowled. "Then how about we fly that flimsy white rag you're wearing instead, hmm? Maybe then it'd be useful for a change."

Isabela started pulling herself up to her full height, which made her about half a head taller than Rosa. "Now see here, missy, you're on _my_ ship. Don't talk to me that way."

"You're the one with no ideas, and you asked me to tell you mine," Rosa snapped. "Are we going to do this or not?"

"And what is '_this'_, exactly?" Zevran had his arms crossed when he spoke, his face uncharacteristically serious. "What are you planning, _mi amor_?"

_I'm planning not to get you killed,_ Rosa thought as she shook her head.

* * *

><p>"What is going on out here?" the magister demanded. He heard the early warnings of a ship approaching, but hadn't expected it to move right next to theirs.<p>

"A truce flag, sir," said one of his crewmen. "And they say their captain wishes to speak to you!"

Frowning, the magister motioned for his personal bodyguard to keep close to him as he went up on deck. As he turned to face the other ship, he found himself staring right at an armor-clad elven woman, with flaming red hair whipping around in the wind. Why anyone would be so foolish as to wear a full set of heavy armor out at sea was beyond him, but his curiosity was piqued when he felt a strong aura of magic emanating from her.

"Hail, messere," she greeted. The woman continued speaking without waiting for him to say anything. "Do I have the honor of speaking to the owner of this vessel?"

"You do," the magister responded, wary, but interested enough to be civil. "And who, may I ask, am I speaking to?"

"I am Neria Surana," the woman responded. "And I have a business proposal for you."

The magister felt the name sounded familiar. He took a better look at the woman, specifically at the emblem emblazoned on her breastplate. As he recognized it, he gave the woman his most welcoming smile.

"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Warden."

* * *

><p>"I must say, I am surprised to have encountered the Hero of Ferelden in this manner," the magister said once he and the Warden were safely ensconced in the privacy of his own cabin.<p>

"Messere," the Warden said, smiling gently. "Surana will suffice. Or Neria, if you please."

"Neria, then," said the magister, smiling back. "If you would be so kind as to call me Danarius."

"Of course, Danarius," Neria said, enunciating his name with feigned affection. The man's very eyes were sending disgusted shivers down her spine, but Neria knew better than to show it. She had to gain this man's trust for the plan to work. "I'm surprised you actually know who I am. I didn't think Tevinter really cared about the last Blight."

"That is true," Danarius said, accepting a glass of wine his elven bodyguard had poured for him. "But we've heard the stories. The archdemon slain by a blood mage rumored to be strong enough to don armor and strike down her foes with a blade just as well she could with spells." He paused and smiled at her. "That blood mage was you, was it not?"

Neria forced herself to smile and nod.

"I've heard your strength comes from your mastery of ancient magic, lost even to us in Tevinter." He paused, taking a sip of the wine thoughtfully. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Neria's eyes seemed to flicker with blue flames as she flashed him a wicked smile. "Yes, that's true."

Danarius leaned forward to have a good look at the Neria's face. Elves had always amused him, with their bright eyes and unusual noses. He always found them strangely attractive, both the male and female. His eyes wandered over to his bodyguard, standing stoically in one corner of the cabin, and felt a satisfied smile creep onto his own face.

"Does this ancient magic interest you, Danarius?"

"All magic interests me," Danarius replied. "Especially magic my fellow senators back in Minrathous know next to nothing about."

"Ah. I figured as much," Neria said, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I am more than willing to teach it to you. In exchange for what I wanted to ask from you."

"And how do I know you haven't sold this knowledge to anyone else?"

"You don't," Neria said, smiling. "But if my word is good enough for you, then I can assure you I have not passed this knowledge on to anyone."

Danarius looked straight at her, and Neria held his scrutinizing gaze calmly, knowing he wouldn't find a trace of a lie on her face. She really _hadn't_ shared her knowledge with anyone.

Nor did she intend to share it now, but he didn't have to know _that_.

Danarius leaned back in his seat again, seemingly satisfied. "Very well, then," he said. "Name your price."

Neria eyed Danarius' bodyguard meaningfully, causing him to shift uncomfortably under her gaze. Emboldened by his discomfort, Neria stood and strode right up to him. She didn't bother averting her gaze from him as she removed her right gauntlet. "These… markings," she said, tracing the markings on the bodyguard's chin and neck with her bare fingertips. He shivered at the contact, but otherwise remained still. "These markings are made of _lyrium_, aren't they?"

"Why yes," said Danarius, looking especially pleased with himself. "I'm surprised you noticed it so quickly."

"I hear it," Neria murmured, absently, looking the bodyguard over. Isabela had been right about him – the markings were all over him, even on his feet. The song the lyrium on his flesh sang was faint, but Neria could still hear its hypnotic melody.

"I'm sorry?" Danarius said, interrupting her thoughts.

"I said I heard about them." Neria caught the bodyguard's questioning gaze as he heard her answer, obviously catching her rephrased statement, but he said nothing. She looked straight at the bodyguard's face then, fixing his yellow-green eyes with her ice blue ones. "I've heard rumors about a certain Tevinter magister managing to burn lyrium into a slave's flesh to create a powerful warrior, and that he was making his way across the Rialto."

"Oh , is that so?" Danarius said, smiling so smugly that Neria was sorely tempted to punch him across the jaw. "Do they interest you, then? These markings?"

"Yes, they _do _interest me, Danarius. In fact…" She smirked at the bodyguard, and ran her hand up his arm in a teasing caress. She heard him suck in his breath through his teeth. "I want to have them."

The bodyguard was stared at her in shock, while Danarius let out a short chuckle. "My dear, if the rumors about you are true, then you no longer need the markings to enhance your power. And… Fenris. Would you be so kind to tell this lady what it was like to receive your markings?"

"It… is an incredible honor, mistress, to be bestowed with these markings. I am told warriors like me are rare, even in Tevinter." Neria noted the slowness and hesitation in Fenris' speech, as though he were merely trained to answer just so. "I must warn you, however, that the pain upon receiving these markings is… extraordinary. I would not wish it upon anyone."

Danarius nodded, seemingly pleased by Fenris' stiff response. "There you have it, lovely one. Are you sure this is what you wish?"

"Yes," Neria lied. "I have a very large threshold for pain thanks to my magic. I'm sure the application of tattoos won't kill me."

Danarius leaned back in his chair and looked Neria over. The woman clearly had no idea what she was getting into. Of course, it would be simple enough to apply the tattoos, now that they had mastered the process when they did it to Fenris. Expensive, but simple.

The other part of the process though – the wiping of memories and mental enslavement, would be much more difficult.

Danarius could easily skip that part, of course – just make a fair trade with the Warden; her knowledge for his. But the opportunity to keep the Hero of Ferelden in his thrall was just too good to pass up. Even though the taint within her had obviously worsened over the years, Neria was still as powerful as she was beautiful. Danarius could tell she would die within the next ten years, and he didn't want to spend the rest of those days wondering if he could have had her.

"Well," Danarius said, gazing at the Warden with renewed mirth in his eyes. "If you are certain, then we have a deal."

* * *

><p>When Neria revealed her true identity to the magister, Zevran knew why she had done so. <em>She needed leverage. Something the magister would want. <em>And that "something" was Neria's knowledge about Arcane Warriors. She was well-known for her use of ancient magic no other had mastered, and that would be enough to make the magister interested enough not to kill her on the spot.

She never revealed the full details of her plan to Isabela and the rest of the crew; all she said was they were to remain on the _Siren's Call II _until she brought the magister and his bodyguard out into the open and instigated a fight. Then Isabela and a select few were to snatch the bodyguard away and flee.

Zevran was bothered by how she never mentioned anything about _her_ escape in her grand plan. He was certain Neria intended to slaughter the magister and his minions – possibly as an indirect sort of vengeance for what happened in the Denerim alienage years ago.

He also knew the entire thing was completely suicidal, given the damage the Taint and her constant abuse of magic had done to her over the years.

And so, even though Neria had deliberately instructed him to stay aboard Isabela's ship, Zevran cloaked himself in shadow, and crept across the deck of the _Siren's Call II_.

* * *

><p><em>I'm fully aware that my writing seems...choppy. I think I got so used to short fiction that I'm having a hard time making multiple scenes flow properly. I guess I should just view this fic as a way to practice writing longer stuff. :p<em>

_The Neria Surana featured in this fic belongs to a friend of mine who is fascinated by how her story played out in Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening. As of her latest save file, Neria is a level 30+ mage, whose specializations are Blood Mage, Arcane Warrior, and Battlemage. Neria wears heavy armor, serves as her party's tank, and apparently lived in the Denerim alienage before the Circle took her away. She never actually wore the Warden Commander armor, but I felt it was more appropriate to use here since she wanted someone to recognize her right away._


	3. Act 2: And Switch

**Act II: …and Switch**

Danarius had just gone down a trap door in his chambers, saying he needed to get the book on his study of lyrium markings that Neria wanted to see. Neria glanced around, assessing the area while pretending to sip the Aggregio Pavali he had just given her. _Does he take me for a fool?_ Neria wondered, sniffing the wine yet again, its fruity scent with a faint hint of deathroot filling her nostrils.

Neria was hardly alone in the chambers; there were two Tevinter soldiers near the door, and Danarius had left his precious bodyguard with her as well. She got up, leaving the wine glass on the table, and walked toward the door. She felt the guards and the bodyguard's eyes on her as she approached, and knew they would probably stop her if she tried to leave.

Neria glanced at the guard's faceguards, and did a double take upon catching a glimpse of their eyes. They were glazed over, like they were in a trance. _Mindless thralls_, she thought. That made things much easier for all of them; _if_ all of Danarius' guards and mages were simply thralls with no minds of their own, then killing their puppet master would probably send them all in a panic or render them useless in a fight.

"So, Fenris," she said, returning to her seat . "Are you allowed to speak with me?"

Fenris stiffened, his brows moving down into a frown. "I have not been explicitly forbidden to do so," he said after a long pause.

Neria looked the slave over once more. _Quite pleasing to the eye, this one,_ she thought. His deep-set eyes were particularly attractive, and the markings on his skin seemed to enhance his delicate musculature. Neria wondered if Danarius had chosen him for the strength of his will and his tolerance of pain, or perhaps simply because he found the elf to be pretty. The latter thought disgusted her.

She crossed the cabin until she was right in front of the elf. "How long have you been serving your master?"

"I have always served him." He was avoiding her gaze, and there was something about his tone made Neria question the truthfulness of his answer.

She knew there was something else wrong with him – his eyes were not glazed over like the guards', but his controlled manner of speech gave it away. She turned her back to him, pulled a tiny vial of red liquid concealed behind her cloth belt, and crushed it in her gauntleted left hand.

"Tell me Fenris," she said, feeling the pulse of energy from the blood that spilled from the vial's crushed remains. "Have you ever wished to be free?"

Fenris said nothing. The blood in Neria's hand began to evaporate, slowly, as she used it to heighten her senses to the presence of blood magic.

"So?" She pressed, turning back to face him. "Is freedom something you desire?"

Fenris still gave no response. As Neria gazed at him, she detected blood magic – strong blood magic – at work within his mind. He seemed devoid of memories and emotions other than the desire to obey his master, but anger and hate pulsed faintly from somewhere deep within him. Neria's suspicions were confirmed; Danarius had done something to tamper with Fenris' thoughts and feelings to make him completely obedient.

And Fenris _hated _him for it.

Neria figured she could break whatever bindings the magister's blood magic placed on Fenris' mind, but it would take more time… and more fuel. The blood on Neria's gauntlet, having served its purpose, had dissipated completely.

Neria had just turned her back to Fenris when the trap door swung open, and Danarius entered…with no book in his hands. He looked mildly surprised at the Warden, probably because he had expected her to be knocked out by the wine. He smiled, however, as he approached her. "I'm afraid, my dear, I have forgotten the tome back at Minrathous. If you would prefer, we can travel there together. I can show you around, and I'm quite certain many of my colleagues would love to meet you."

"It would be my pleasure, Danarius." The magister's smile widened, and he placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. Neria steeled herself and did not give in to her desire to shrug his hand off in disgust. "Would you permit me to return to my ship and gather some of my belongings? There is a tome I've written that I believe you would be interested in seeing. It contains my findings about the ancient magic I use."

Danarius eyes brightened with such eagerness that reminded Neria of the glint in a child's eyes after being offered a new toy. "Yes, of course. If you would permit my men and I to escort you outside…?"

_I'm counting on it_. Neria nodded, smiling as Danarius led her out of the cabin.

* * *

><p><em>Uno. Dos. Tres.<em>

Danarius didn't even know what hit him upon taking his third step out of the cabin. Or he did, but barely had time to react. Zevran's needle-sharp dagger sank deep into his back, with precision that ensured its point pierced the old magister's heart.

The magister fell to the deck, and Neria stared at the assassin in shock. She opened her mouth to yell at him for not following the plan, but the sight of Fenris with his lyrium tattoos glowing and the sharp talons of his gauntlets reaching for them made her decide to save it for later.

It had been a while since she cast her protective armor of spells, but she remembered them all in a flash. _The strength of magic and the protection of stone._ Neria snarled, and knocked Fenris aside with force that stunned even herself and Zevran. _The resilience of the Fade. _An arrow zipped toward her, only to phase through her now translucent form. With Fenris off their backs, Zevran managed to rush ahead and slit a couple of Tevinter soldiers' throats, spilling a tremendous amount of blood on deck.

Neria caught the scent of blood, and smirked. _The power of blood and death. _She felt the magic swirling around her, strengthening her, sapping the life force of the dying soldiers.

Fenris drew his blade, and brought it down on her. Neria dodged the blow fairly easily and slammed a fist into the elf's abdomen, causing him to crumple against her. Cradling the back of his head with her hand, she forced a spell onto him. "Sleep, now," she whispered. His limpness told her that her spell had gotten past his mental defenses, and that it was time for the rest of the plan to play out.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE YOU LAZY SODS, GET YOUR ASSES OVER THERE AND HELP!" Neria heard Isabela cry from their ship. Danarius was nowhere to be seen as Isabela's crew vaulted across to engage the Tevinter soldiers.

It was an absolute mess. Neria cursed as she held on to Fenris with one hand and yanked a sword from one of the dead soldiers with another. A circle of soldiers was closing in on her. She stabbed the blade into the ground, and in an instant all of them were frozen around her.

All of the soldiers were still fighting, and that told her Danarius wasn't dead yet. As Neria started looking around for any sign of the magister, a force spell suddenly knocked her down onto the deck. Pain shot through her side, and she knew the spell had probably dented her armor and broken a few of her ribs. She felt blood streaking down the side of her face from a cut on her temple. But still, she stood up with little effort, a wicked smile on her face.

The blood mage that assaulted her seemed stunned, and began casting yet another spell. Neria sneered at him. The mage flung a fireball toward her, but the layers of defensive spells covering Neria shielded her from the blast. The flames danced around the wooden panels beneath her feet.

Another force spell struck her down, but again, she stood up laughing. "I've slain templars, abominations, high dragons…and the Archdemon. What makes you think you can _possibly_ defeat me?" She pointed her sword in his direction, and dispelled his barrier. The mage balked, suddenly stepping backward in panic.

The mage frantically moved to cast another spell, but Neria slammed her fist across his jaw, sending him sprawling on the deck. "Please," he gasped, "Don't kill me… I'll do anything you want…please…"

"I always admired the Tevinter mages for their freedom," Neria said, placing a heavily-armored foot onto the mage's heaving chest. "And at some point, I did want to go to Tevinter and become a magister myself."

"Our master…our master can make that happen," the mage stammered. "I'll talk to him…and he'll make you a magister…a senator if you want. Just please…"

Neria smirked, placing more of her weight onto the mage's chest, ignoring his desperate pleas. "Now I know better than to admire the likes of you, _slaver_. _I'm_ stronger than any other mage on the face of Thedas. And I did _that_ with no help from your damned Imperium." And she brought the point of her sword down onto the mage's throat.

* * *

><p>As Neria sated her bloodlust, the chaos around her raged on. The ship was ablaze now, thanks to the spells Danarius' pet mages were casting frantically. She heard the moaning of demons and abominations, and knew they had to escape the burning ship posthaste before Isabela and her crew were slaughtered.<p>

In the haze of fire and smoke, she spotted Fenris' unconscious form sprawled nearby. Neria pulled him upright and swung one of his arms around her shoulders, and started dragging him toward the gangplank.

The Tevinter troops and mages were too preoccupied defending themselves against Isabela's crew to notice the Warden dragging Fenris along. Neria had to fend off a soldier or two, but she easily dispatched them with her borrowed sword.

Isabela was in the middle of the gangplank, knocking a soldier into the water below when Neria approached. "Come on!" Isabela yelled at Neria. "We have to go, _now_! One of my men spotted an al-"

An explosion from below the Tevinter ship's decks interrupted Isabela, and rocked both ships violently. Isabela and Neria had managed to leap onto their own ship with Fenris in tow, narrowly avoiding being knocked straight into the water.

Foul smoke erupted from the Tevinter ship was wafted over to Isabela's, causing everyone on board to hack and cough. "Alchemy… lab…" Isabela wheezed. "Below… decks…"

Neria squinted in an attempt to see through the smoke. Many of Isabela's men were fumbling with ropes to swing across the water and back into their ship. Isabela barked orders to her helmsman, letting him know they were pulling away from the burning Tevinter ship as soon as most of the men were across.

Neria watched the men through blurred eyes, knowing not all of them would make it. The smoke was clearing up a bit as their ship began to move, and most of Isabela's surviving crew made it back safely. But there was one man Neria could not account for.

_Zevran._

Neria glanced around wildly, the smoke stinging her dilated eyes, searching for the assassin. She couldn't see him. She looked back to the Tevinter ship, trying to spot him. She tried to call out for him, but the fumes entered her lungs and turned what would have been a loud bellow into a wheezing whimper.

Neria felt her heart start to pound with panic. Throwing logic and caution to the winds, she began hauling herself up over the railing, preparing to leap across the gap, but another explosion shook both ships, sending her flying backwards onto the deck of _Siren's Call II_. She scrambled to her feet once more, ran back to the railing, and braced herself for a long jump…

…only to feel someone's arms grab at her from behind and prevent her from doing so.

"_Are you insane?!_" Isabela shrieked over the chaos. "There's no way you can—OOF!"

Neria slammed an elbow into Isabela's abdomen, and resumed clambering over the railing. She barely got one leg over, however, when pain suddenly shot through her entire struggled to stay on her feet, using the railing for support as her knees began to buckle.

_Shit. Not now. Not now! Zevran!_

Hot tears were filling her eyes as she grit her teeth and forced herself to at least look back up at the sinking Tevinter vessel. The entire thing was aflame now. Panic and raged surged within her… and the voice, _that voice_, speaking in her mind.

_Let me out, pretty one. I can save your beloved for you. All you need to do is let me out._

_No!_ Neria fell to her knees, hugging herself as her muscles began to spasm. _No, I will never let you out! Never! I refuse to become an abomination! I promised him… Zevran… Zevran!_

The voice laughed. _Look at you, you poor dear. You've pushed yourself too hard again. Your body can't take much more, you know. You're dying. You've been dying ever since you drank that foul darkspawn blood. I can help you with that, too. Just let me out._

The pain in her body and her heart were too much for her now. Despite the demon's coaxing and constant interruptions, all she could think of was Zevran. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she felt the darkness overtake her.

* * *

><p><em>This chapter was the most difficult to write so far, but I definitely had a lot of fun with it. :) My friend and I had looong discussions about how this part was going to play out, and she constantly had to remind me about Neria's personality and the spells she actually uses in-game. :p<em>

_If any of you are curious which spells Neria actually cast in this chapter, they're as follows: "The strength of magic and the protection of stone": Combat Magic, Rock Armor; "The resilience of the Fade": Fade Shroud (passive skill triggered when Combat Magic is active); "The power of blood and death": Blood Magic, Death Magic, Draining Aura. She also casts Dispel Magic, Hand of Winter, and Sleep, but those were probably more obvious!_


	4. Act 3: Rude Awakenings

**Act III: Rude Awakenings**

When Neria woke, her entire body felt like a raw bruise. It wasn't anything new to her. She sat up and looked around, hoping Zevran would be there, smiling at her with that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

But, of course, the assassin wasn't there. Tears stung Neria's eyes, and she rubbed them away, angrily. She knew this mission was foolish and dangerous. She warned Zevran not to get himself involved directly. She told him, over and over, to stay on the ship and leave the rest to her.

The sound of the door opening disrupted her thoughts. She glared at the unwanted intruder, who turned out to be Isabela.

"You're… you're awake!" Isabela sounded relieved. "You've been out for _days_ now. Are you all right?"

Neria said nothing, but pieced together what happened to her. _Too many spells, sustained for too long. My body weakened by the taint over the years. Zevran... _She winced. _Zevran._

Isabela stood in the doorway, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as Neria remained silent. At length, she coughed awkwardly. "You… must be hungry. Yes, of course you're hungry. I'll have food brought in for you."

"The slave is still asleep, isn't he?" Neria said quietly as Isabela turned to leave.

Isabela scratched her head. "Ah, yes, he is, but don't worry about it. I'm not worried about it, so why should you be?"

The way Isabela said all _that_ in one breath told Neria otherwise. Sighing, she swung her legs over the side of the cot, and nearly doubled over from the pain that shot through her body when she put her weight on them. "Liar," she hissed. "You're afraid he'll die."

"Hey!" Isabela said, moving to help Neria stand. "I was worried about _you,_ too."

Neria snorted and waved Isabela away, kneeling down to pull her trunk out from beneath the cot. She was completely naked save for the bandages and bruises, and she winced as she opened the chest. She pulled out one of her softer robes, and pulled it over her head.

"Look, you don't have to force it, Neria. I know you need to rest-"

"Your slave boy _will _die of starvation if I don't wake him up," Neria said. "All the trouble we went through to get him back for you will amount to nothing if he dies."

Isabela looked down. "I'm… sorry about Zev. One of our men told me he saw how…"

"_Enough."_

Isabela flinched at the sharpness of Neria's tone. "I really am sorry. He… he was a good man."

Neria bowed her head, keeping her face turned away from Isabela as she felt the tears overflow. "Just shut up and take me to the slave, will you?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Take him. If you want him, he's yours."<em>

"_Ha. I thought I was the only one thinking that."_

"_No! Tell me you won't do this! This is wrong!"_

"_Don't do this, Hawke. I know we're not friends, but I can't face him without you."_

"_Not a chance. You're on your own, Fenris."_

_Fenris._

"Fenris!"

Fenris bolted upright, instinctively grabbing at the person hovering over him as he slept. His would-be victim reacted quickly, though, and had a dagger pointed at his neck as his hand reached for hers.

"Hey," the human woman managed say despite his firm grip on her throat. "Is this…how you greet…an old friend?"

"What are you talking about?" Fenris snarled, ignoring the painful dryness in his throat as he spoke.

He felt the coldness of another blade slide near his throat, its tip slipping through the slim gap between the woman's dagger and his skin. "Let her go," he heard a familiar voice say.

Fenris' glanced to the right and saw Neria Surana, the Hero of Ferelden. Without her armor, she seemed like a sickly elf girl with deathly pale skin, but there was a certain level of fierceness and authority in her silver-blue eyes that told him she WOULD slit his throat right then and there if he refused to listen to her.

He cursed under his breath, and let the other woman go. She backed off and bent over to draw a few wheezing breaths before turning her attention to Neria.

"I _told you._ You should've done that…magic…_thing_ to help him remember who he is. Now he's all confused and angry!"

"And I told you he would be too dangerous for _him_ if I started messing with his mind while he was unconscious," Neria said, not taking her eyes – or her sword – off Fenris as she spoke.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Fenris rasped. "Would you just tell me what you want from me?"

"Oh, not much, really," the human said, cheerfully. "We just wanted to ravish you and turn you into our glistening pleasure slave."

Neria snorted. "_Isabela_."

"Isa…bela," Fenris repeated, glancing at the human once more. Bronzed skin, golden earrings and a piercing beneath her lip, raven hair tucked beneath a blue bandanna…there was something familiar about her, but Fenris couldn't place where he had seen her before. "You said you were an old friend?"

Isabela's eyes brightened a little as she grinned widely at him. "You remember me then?"

He squinted at her for a few moments, trying to recall why she seemed familiar to him, but to no avail. "I…don't know," he finally said, as feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Neria had pulled her sword away from him, but he didn't bother with another attempt at attacking either of the two women. He propped himself up by the elbows and frowned at Isabela. "Is this why you kidnapped me? Because you know who I am?"

"_Kidnapped?_" Isabela said incredulously. "We _rescued_ you from that Tevinter bastard!"

"My master was good to me." The words were out of Fenris' mouth before he even realized what he was saying. "I should kill you for what you did to him!" He lunged toward Isabela, but in almost the same instant Neria yanked him backward onto the bed, with her sword back at his throat and a knee on his abdomen.

The movement seemed to knock the breath out of her as much as it did Fenris – her breaths came in gasps and sweat was beading on her brow. "Isabela," she managed, after drawing in a few deep breaths. "Get out."

Isabela, who had her daggers out in preparation to defend herself in case Fenris managed to reach her, scowled at Neria. "What?"

"Out," Neria repeated. Fenris struggled beneath her, but her knee and blade kept him pinned on the bed.

Isabela bit her lip, worrying the two would kill each other if she left, but reluctantly slid her daggers back in their sheaths. "I'll be outside."

Neria nodded, and turned her attention to Fenris once Isabela left the cabin. "_Listen to me._ You know what kind of man your master was, don't you?"

Fenris stopped struggling, his face contorting into an expression that Neria couldn't define – disgust? Hate? Both? It didn't matter. She sucked in a few more breaths and continued. "He's tampered with your mind, Fenris. Robbed you of your memories; implanted the instinct to protect him…you _know_ what I'm talking about."

Fenris shut his eyes tight, as though in pain, and turned his face away from Neria. He felt her weight lifting away from him as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Yes," he finally said. "I…I know. My memories…no matter how hard I try, I don't remember anything. About my past, my family…nothing. All I know is to serve him."

"I may be able to help you," she said, softly.

"Why?" Fenris demanded, opening his eyes to look at her. "Why help me? Is the mighty Hero of Ferelden feeling sorry for the poor elven slave?"

"I know what sort of monsters these Tevinter slavers are," she said, ignoring his taunt. "I won't be one of them."

"You already _are_ one of them," Fenris hissed. "_Blood mage_."

One of Neria's hands came down on Fenris' face, leaving a red mark on his cheek in its wake. His markings glowed as he growled and grabbed her by the wrist. Neria jerked away from him to break his grip, unsuccessfully, and both of them tumbled onto the floor. The sudden movement made Fenris sickeningly dizzy, and by the time the nausea passed, Neria had recovered and freed herself from his grasp. She dragged him to his feet by the shoulders and slammed him back against the wall.

"You ungrateful little _shit_," she snarled, emphasizing the last word by tightening her grip on his shoulders and actually _lifting_ him a little off the ground. Fenris could have sworn he felt some of her nails puncturing his skin. "Do you know what _price_ I had to pay to drag you off that ship?"

Fenris had grasped both of her wrists firmly as she spoke, fully intending to break her hold on him even if it meant shattering her bones, but the way her voice cracked and the sight of the unshed tears in her eyes startled him. He released her as she suddenly pulled away from him, wheezing heavily and hastily swiping the back of her hand across her face. Whatever that price was – whoever it was – must have been important to her.

"I do realize I appear…ungrateful," Fenris managed, rubbing his shoulders gingerly. "I apologize." _I feel I've said this to someone before. But to whom? _He leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes as his head throbbed with dull pain. "You…" he murmured after a few moments. "Are you sure you can help me?"

"That depends," Neria replied. Her breathing seeming to have stabilized and the tears were gone from her eyes when he looked at her again. "Based on your behavior, I take it you're not keen on _any_ kind of magic?"

"_No_," he said. "I'm not."

Neria said nothing, picking up what appeared to be a shirt and a pair of trousers and chucking them at him rather angrily. Realizing he had been completely _naked _the whole time they were arguing, Fenris felt his face flush in belated embarrassment.

Not that Neria seemed to care. "Then you've answered your own question," she spat, as she walked toward the door. "_No_, I can't help you." And she stormed out of the cabin, brushing past a bewildered Isabela.

* * *

><p><em>Man, writing this fic has seriously gone down to a snail's pace lately - work is getting in the way of my imagination.<em>

_I lost count of how many times Fenris and Neria snarled, growled, frowned, and glared at each other in this chapter. We're in for a rocky boat ride, folks._

_The first version of this chapter had Fenris waking up with his memories fully restored, but I figured that was sort of too good to be true. And besides, angry and confused Fenris is kind of hot. :p The Fenris-gets-migraines-when-remembering-stuff thing is kind of cliche, but I honestly couldn't think of another way to make it obvious that Danarius put a little more effort into making Fenris forget about his past the second time around._

_And about him being naked...how else was Isabela supposed to patch up his injuries? ;)_


	5. Act 4: Cabin Fever

**Act IV: Cabin Fever**

Neria needed to return to Antiva. There was Crow business she had to attend to, no matter how much she wanted to avoid it. She could just not go back at all and pretend that she had died during the mission, but she owed Zevran this, at least. All she had to do was speak to Lupe, Zevran's first apprentice, and report what had happened to the leader of the Crows.

Two months. They were out at sea for two months, nearing three. They couldn't put to port immediately after the encounter with Danarius – the burning Tevinter vessel must have been a sight to behold to the watchtowers along the Rialto ports. They had to keep moving and stay out at sea for a while to avoid getting implicated.

Neria had packed for an extended journey as both she and Zevran predicted they would have to stay aboard the _Siren's Call II_ for a while, but she hadn't counted on being there _alone_.

If this had happened ten, twenty years ago, being alone wouldn't have bothered Neria as much. She was always the quiet, broody one at the Circle, and never really sought companionship. True, she had Jowan as a friend, but other than that…? No, she was always the odd one out, and she was fine with that. It gave her more time to study, to perfect her craft and gain the power to win the fear and respect of those around her.

After spending the past few years with Zevran in Antiva, however, everything got turned around for her. She had become fond of his talkativeness and humor, and the hustle and bustle of Antiva.

Now that he was gone, it was as if someone had drained the life and color out of everything.

So there she was, Neria Surana, the Hero of Ferelden and ex-Warden Commander, tucked away in a little corner pondering a huge tome, very much like the young Circle apprentice she once was.

She sighed and shut the book, rubbing her temples as she looked outside her cabin's tiny porthole.

_Water, water, and more water._ Neria couldn't wait to get back on dry land.

But after Antiva, where would she go? With Zevran gone, there was no reason for her to stay there any longer.

_Where do Grey Wardens go to end their suffering?_

Neria sighed, looking over at a particular set of maps she laid out on the crate serving as her makeshift desk. _The Deep Roads, that's where_. She walked over to the maps, trailing her fingers along the illustrations. Did she really want that? To be shut in with darkspawn, fighting to her last breath?

_And risk turning into an abomination in the middle of that last battle? No!_

Neria started rolling the maps up, but thought of a better idea. She crumpled them up and chucked them out the porthole. She remembered a promise – an old promise she made Zevran swear before she agreed to return to Antiva with him.

_Promise me, Zev, when the time comes… when the Taint becomes too much for me to bear…promise me you'll be the one to end it for me._

Zevran had a pained look on his face when he responded, but he promised, nonetheless.

And now that he was gone, what was she supposed to do?

Neria sat on her cot and buried her face in her hands, frustrated. Frustrated that Zevran got himself killed, and frustrated that she was crippled without him. He was the only thing holding her together, keeping her from falling apart and from becoming a monster.

"I keep telling you, Neria. You should stop cooping yourself up in here. Come out on deck and get some sunshine!"

Neria nearly jumped out of her cot at the sound of Isabela's voice. "_Damn it_, Isabela, stop sneaking up on me like that!"

"I can't help that I'm light on my feet," Isabela winked. "How about it? Come on up, we've got a nice cool breeze that's just dying to tousle your pretty red hair."

"Is anyone else up on deck?"

"Of course there are people up on deck-"

"Then I'm not going."

"And why not?" Isabela sat on top of a crate and crossed her legs, giving Neria ample cause to turn away from her as she did so. "It's not like they're going to hurt you."

"_They're_ afraid _I'll _hurt them," Neria said, picking up the book she was reading and shoving it into the chest beneath her cot. "Knowing my reputation, Isabela, I'm surprised how you manage to keep turning a blind eye to how your crew feels about me being on board."

"Nonsense. You're the Hero of Ferelden! They've nothing but respect for you."

Neria raised an eyebrow.

Isabela let out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, so maybe _some_ of them are terrified of you. But you're just scaring them even more by holing up in here and never showing your face!" Isabela clucked her tongue as she grabbed Neria and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, girl. Play a round of Wicked Grace with me and a couple of the boys._ Just one round._ If they act all spooked by your presence, you can head back here after we kick them in the nuts. What do you say?"

Neria glared at Isabela for a few moments, and sighed. "You promise not to cheat?"

"You bet your ass I won't."

"Won't cheat? Or won't promise?"

Isabela grinned as she ushered Neria out the door.

* * *

><p>Two months out at sea, and Fenris still didn't know what he was going to do once they got off on dry land. He spent many a sleepless night wondering what how he would proceed with no past to return to and no clear future to look forward to.<p>

While his nights were filled with disquiet, Fenris kept himself occupied during the day by helping out around the ship. He figured it was the least he could do for Isabela and the rest of the crew that helped him escape. He aided in tying down the sails when rough winds were about, and helping unfurl them when they got a good, steady headwind. He did some cleaning as well, scrubbing the floorboards and banisters. Isabela's crewmen seemed to be happy with how easily he learned whatever task was thrown his way, and never treated him differently from any other crew member.

That is, if he was to exclude the way they regarded the Warden.

Hero or no, most of the crew was scared shitless of her, and that was hardly an exaggeration. Fenris noticed the way they avoided her when she came to the kitchen for food, and the nervous glances the crewmen exchanged when she was nearby.

As for Fenris, having Neria around was hardly a terrifying experience at all. It was uncomfortable, yes, but not terrifying. He knew better than to underestimate her, of course – he had seen her in action and she had him unconscious on the ground in just a few blinks of an eye. But he had been around mages for so long that he no longer feared them. They bled like normal humans or elves did, and Danarius' _gift_ of lyrium tattoos had strengthened his defenses against magic. He was at a disadvantage the first time he faced her because he didn't know what to expect from her, but now that he had some idea, he was certain he could put up a good enough fight if she suddenly decided to go on a murderous rampage.

Isabela emerged from the cabin area with Neria in tow, the mage looking just as frail and cranky as ever. A few of the braver pirates either greeted her heartily, but as for the rest of the crew…Fenris could practically smell the fear hidden behind their feigned smiles.

"Fenris!" Isabela suddenly hollered. "Get your arse over here. We're about to play a round of Wicked Grace. Join us!"

Fenris smirked and hopped down from the rigging after giving the knot he was working on one last tug. "If it involves you cheating the rest of us until we're stripped down to our small clothes – _again_ – then I'll have to pass."

"None of you have anything I haven't seen before. And besides," Isabela beamed and threw an arm around the red-headed elf next to her. "This time we'll have this pretty one stripping down to her small clothes too. Will that change your mind?"

Neria shot a piercing glare at Isabela, and then bestowed another glare upon Fenris, as if challenging him to answer.

Fenris tilted his head, looking down at the Warden in mock appraisal. "Perhaps."

To both Isabela's and Fenris' surprise, Neria's lips quirked upward in a sly smirk. "I hope you both know what you're getting into. I've learned a thing or two about card games while I was in Antiva."

* * *

><p><em>Not much to say about this chapter. Things were getting rather tense in the previous one, so I figured we needed a dose of lightheartedness (courtesy of the lovely Isabela). If you're missing all the angst and rage going on with Neria and Fenris, don't worry - I'm sure they'll be at each other throats again soon. :p<em>


	6. Act 5: To Free a Slave

**Act V: To Free a Slave**

"Funny how pirates warm up to anyone after a few rounds of drinks and a good card game, isn't it?"

The song of lyrium faintly echoing in her ears told Neria who spoke before she even looked at him. She managed a bit of a smirk as Fenris approached her and leaned against the railing of the _Siren Call II'_s forecastle beside her. "And I suppose by 'anyone' you mean even power-hungry blood mages who wreak havoc wherever they go?"

"That is...not what I meant," Fenris said. "I know we aren't exactly friends, but I do owe you some gratitude. Respect, even."

Neria raised an eyebrow at him. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Not yet," Fenris smirked at her. "But you aren't exactly sober either."

Neria snorted, leaning forward on the railing. She did have more than a few drinks during the card game, and her face was feeling hot and flushed. She took a deep breath, hoping the ocean breeze would help clear the alcohol's effects from her head.

"Any particular reason you walked out on a perfectly good game of Wicked Grace?" Fenris asked. "You were giving Isabela a run for her smallclothes back there."

Thanks to all that time she and Zevran spent in the gambling houses of Antiva, Neria had picked up a few cheats of her own, and had managed to use them against Isabela. The game was going quite well, and even Isabela was laughing uproariously along with her crewmen at the thought that the Hero of Ferelden could best her at cards.

The real reason Neria had left was the entire scene – gambling, laughing along with an old friend, and the seemingly endless flow of liquor – reminded her too much of Zevran.

She sighed and glanced over at Fenris, who was taking idle sips of ale from a bottle he'd brought out on deck with him. "Any particular reason you're out here talking to me?" she asked.

"There is one thing," Fenris said, offering her the bottle, which she reluctantly took and took a sip from. "The 'price' you paid that night…I know what it is."

Feeling ill-timed tears welling up in her eyes, Neria turned away from Fenris and gulped down what little remained of the ale, silently cursing whoever it was who relayed this bit of information him. "What of it, then? Are you going to offer to take his place? Or something similarly idiotic?"

Fenris buried his face in the palm of his hand, muttering something in Tevene that Neria could barely hear. "All I was going to say," he said slowly, measuring his words carefully. "Is that I'm sorry for your loss, and I would like to make it up to you somehow."

"Zevran and I were just doing a job. And I've no need for a bodyguard or a slave," Neria said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. "There are plenty of other men who died back there whose families might benefit from your abilities."

"None of those men had any family apart from Isabela and the rest of her crew," Fenris murmured. "And they told me I shouldn't be taking it so hard. That what little I've done for them to keep this ship in shape is enough."

Neria crossed her arms atop the railing, studying the look on Fenris' face. He seemed at a loss about what to do next, and she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. "You don't owe anyone anything, Fenris."

Fenris shook his head. "You took far greater risks than any of those men on this ship, and lost something irreplaceable. And I know that I've been...difficult." Neria snorted at that, but Fenris pressed on. "I feel I ought to do _something _for you, Warden…though I know my debt to you will never be repaid."

"Well, there was something I've been meaning to ask you," Neria said. "Danarius and his friends –did any of them have slaves from Denerim?"

Fenris flinched at the mention of Danarius name, and Neria braced herself for yet another violent outburst…but it never came. He merely shook his head, and seemed to struggle with his words as he spoke. "I...I'm not sure. I am…not privy to that sort of information. Why do you ask?"

"My cousin is from Denerim," Neria said. "Tevinter slavers were allowed into the Denerim alienage twelve years ago. They tricked the elves into thinking there was a plague spreading, confining the 'sick' elves in a hospice," She clenched her fists. "When in truth, they were capturing them and shipping them off to Tevinter."

"Was your cousin...?"

"No. No, she wasn't taken. But one of our uncles was, and many others besides. The elves in the Denerim alienage all treat each other like family. Everyone lost was someone important."

"Twelve years is a long time…even for a slave," Fenris said. Neria nodded in understanding. What he really meant was: _If it's been twelve years, then most of them are probably dead – or worse._

"I wanted to save them. I tried," she said, reasoning with...whom? Herself? "I killed the slavers that were in Denerim. I petitioned Queen Anora to allow me to get the slaves back." Neria smacked the railing with the sides of her balled fists as she remembered the golden-haired queen of Ferelden, whom she had installed as ruler at the cost of Arl Eamon's trust and Alistair's life. "That _ingrate_ expressly forbade me from taking _any_ action whatsoever to recover the elves smuggled out of Denerim. Something about political backlash from Tevinter. I made some other attempts secretly while I was in Antiva, but...I failed." Neria ran a hand through her disheveled locks in irritation. "A long time ago I thought the Tevinter magisters were mages to look up to, but after what I saw in the Denerim alienage..." She shook her head. "They've no right to trick people and tamper with their minds with blood magic."

Neria noticed Fenris' lips tighten at her last statement, and she let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, I _am_ a blood mage. I don't deny that. But I don't use my magic to enslave innocent people, or rob them of their memories! I only resorted to it because—" Neria halted her own speech by biting down on her lips. _Too much. I'm saying too much. Must be the damn ale._

Fenris' face reflected an odd mixture of anger and concern. "There no reason can ever justify using the life of another to fuel your power…or indebting yourself to a demon."

"No reason?" Neria echoed, albeit in a venomous tone. "So wanting the power to save the few loved ones I had, desiring the strength to face the Archdemon and save thousands of lives…those aren't good enough reasons for you?"

"I've…met mages who supposedly had noble causes like those," Fenris said, speaking as though the words were leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "But they turned out to be monsters…just like the rest of-" Fenris winced, drawing a hand up to cover his eyes and press at his temples. The pain in his head throbbed like a secondary heartbeat, and his knees buckled before Neria could reach out to steady him.

Had Fenris' eyes not been shut, he would have noticed the irritation on Neria's face had been abruptly replaced by concern. _The mere mention of his master, his memories…and rebellious thoughts – all of them are triggers_. Neria initially thought Danarius' spell was wearing off and that the only remaining traces of it was how Fenris' seemed to have difficulty discussing the Imperium in a negative light, but now she realized he must have been forcing himself to ignore the headaches the whole time he was speaking to her. _Either that or the intoxication made him numb to the pain, somehow._

Fenris' breath was coming in ragged hisses and his lyrium tattoos were glowing faintly from the strain, but even then he made an attempt to pull away when Neria placed a hand on his shoulder. She gripped him firmly, recalling what she'd heard from Isabela. According to her, Fenris had somehow regained his memories, slowly, while he was in Kirkwall. _How_ it happened was beyond the pirate's limited knowledge, but the fact that it _did _happen must have set Danarius on edge.

Even through the fabric of Fenris' shirt, Neria could see and feel the lyrium branded onto his skin, and she could hear its song singing in a more urgent tone. She'd heard from a friend, once, that only spirits could hear lyrium's song in the mortal realm, but she could hear it distinctly. She blamed her skills as an Arcane Warrior for that, since it allowed her to tap into the Fade more than any other mage could.

_And that's where all the answers lie. _She knew the only way to work around Danarius' spellwork was to step into the Fade – to allow whatever memories that stayed dormant in Fenris' mind to surface through its ever-changing landscape. The severity and strength of Danarius' spells, which should have started wearing down when he died, made Neria fear he had employed demons to help keep Fenris' memories buried in the depths of his mind.

However, for both of them to stay lucid in the Fade, and to step into the version of the Fade that appeared in Fenris' dreams and keep her own memories at bay…

Neria already calculated how much blood had to be spilt to fuel that sort of trip, and she would need more than twice the blood Isolde had spilt for her son, Connor, back at Redcliffe. Neria shuddered at the memory, remembering she had used a mother's life to save her son, whom she still allowed to be taken away by a Desire Demon in exchange for the power to use blood magic.

Neria kept a grip on Fenris to support him as he rose to his feet when the worst of the pain subsided. As the glow of his markings started to fade, and she recalled there was a large, intricate web of them covering his entire body.

_There's probably enough lyrium on him to fuel powerful spells, had Danarius chosen to use him as a mana source. _With the combined power of the lyrium in his flesh and her own blood, and the assistance of a sleeping spell or two, Neria could step into the Fade and help him, without sacrificing anyone's life.

"_Fasta vass,_" Fenris suddenly snarled, pulling his arm away from her.

"Yes, fuck them all. That's still not going to help you," Neria said, ignoring the startled look Fenris gave her upon realizing she actually understood Tevene. "The only thing that can help you-"

"_Na voli ea*,_" Fenris said, waving his hand dismissively. "I thank you for your offer, but I want nothing more to do with magic. You've freed me from my master and that is enough."

"_Na libera, homo cuius mens en conpedibus**_," Neria said, quietly. "If you wish to truly be free of your master, Fenris, you really have no other option. Magic has your mind shackled; only magic can break it free."

"You owe me no favors, I'm still at a loss as to how to pay you back for what you've done for me thus far, and we can't even have a simple, drunken _talk_ without arguing. Why are you so keen on helping me? Not out of a sense of charity or _pity_, I hope?"

"No. My reasons are entirely selfish," Neria admitted. "I want to know I can at least undo an evil a Tevinter magister wrought, even if I failed to rescue the slaves sold from Denerim." _And to prove that blood mages aren't all monsters._

Fenris scowled. "And you want me to believe you don't want to just figure out how Danarius did it so you can inflict it on someone else?"

Neria's lip curled in irritation. "My only interest is in _un_doingit, not _doing_ it. I don't think anything I say will make you believe the honesty of my intentions, but think about the impracticality of it all. By my estimation, you'd have to sacrifice at least three adult humans to just 'erase' someone's memory. To add those triggered 'punishments' of yours to the mix, I'm estimating a mage would need to kill at least two more. So unless I had an entire estate full of slaves who'd drop dead simply because I commanded them to…"

Fenris looked utterly disgusted by the thought. "And that is the amount of blood you'd have to spill to reverse it?"

"That would depend," Neria replied without hesitation. "What I have in mind is less complex than what Danarius did. With an alternate source for mana, like lyrium, and the right sort of mage, it can probably be done without shedding that much blood." Neria looked at Fenris pointedly then, and his eyes narrowed as he began to understand.

"I have the lyrium," he said, slowly. "And you're the right sort of mage. Is that what you're saying?"

Neria nodded, holding his scrutinizing gaze with her own. "Will you think about it, at least?"

Fenris remained silent, and turned to walk away…but not without a swift, almost imperceptible nod to the Warden.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: This chapter underwent SEVEN revisions (most of them done while I was listening to the "Mage Pride" track of the <em>Dragon Age II <em>OST, lol), and the first six revisions were absolutely NOTHING like this final version. I swear, sometimes this story has a life of its own.

I used Google translate and this awesome Tevinter-language guide created by katiebour  /works/227715/chapters/345346 as references for the Tevene (most people call it Arcanum, but katibour calls it "Tevene" and I like how that sounds) parts that appear in this chapter. I'm no linguist and I realize that this may sound like horrid Latin to more knowledgeable folk, but that's as good as it gets on my end. :|

* _Na voli ea._ – (I) don't want it.

** _Na libera, homo cuius mens en conpedibus. _– A man whose mind is in chains is not free. (_lit. _not free, man whose mind [is] in chains).


End file.
